


In These Stolen Moments

by IdrisSmith



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Steggy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7217740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisSmith/pseuds/IdrisSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are hundreds of conversations between Peggy and Steve. Shared jokes and memories only two people who had been where they had could understand. Sometimes she was who she was in the moment, sometime she became the girl she once was. And he sat with her during the last days of her life, just talk about life, S.H.I.E.L.D, the Avengers, Natasha…and a certain girl next door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In These Stolen Moments

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first (published) Marvel fanfiction. It means, there will be errors. If you have a problem with my tags or my ship, please tell me nicely, I'd really appreciate it.

Peggy and Steve had hundreds of conversations between them. From the moment he found out about her, a weekly and sometimes more than once a week visit became a routine for her. There are days when he would just watch her sleep because she was tired all the time. But, those days weren’t as many as the days where she was awake and spoke to him. Some days she was lucid, sometimes she forgot she was a frail old woman.

On those days, they’d talk about them. The place they’d get after the war is over because it was obviously far from over and how many kids they’d have. She said five and he smiled, exclaiming; “That many?” to which she would laugh because if it was with Steve, she wanted a huge family. They could settle somewhere, even a house in the country. Of course, she wouldn’t do that – she was a force to be reckoned with and that he knew. 

So, they settled on Brooklyn and she’d joke; “So you can show our boys the alley where you were beat up?”

“You remembered that?” he said with a laugh. The conversation they had over seventy years ago played easily at the edge of his mind. Of course, for her it was just a memory for two, maybe three years ago. 

“I remember everything you said to me,” she confirmed and he blushed.

Just like that, he was back to the blushing boy he was the first time he saw her. He wondered what she ever saw in him even back when he was just a frail man. Did she always saw this in his future? Had she always known he was meant for something more than being beaten up at the back alley of a block in Brooklyn? He wanted to ask, but she was already drifting again.

Checking his watch, he realized their conversation lasted about half an hour. He committed every detail to his memory. The colour of the wall she wanted for the kitchen to how many kids they would have. He played along like he always did when she was lost in her memories because God, he wanted it too.

But, she was lived her life and she was loved, and that was good enough for him. As always, he wrapped the moment neatly and store it away in his heart. This much, he would take just this much, he promised himself that.

On the days where she was lucid and her memory seemed like it never failed her, she’d teased him and joke with him. Some days they would even reminisce about the days they had at the camp or when he went out of his way to save Bucky. She apologized, yet again, for his death even when he never blamed her. He blamed himself, but never anyone else. She realized this and told him to stop.

“It wasn’t your fault. He made his choice and if he is here, I believe he would make the same choice all over again,” she told him and it earned her a smile.

She didn’t know Bucky very well – no. But, she knew his character from what he spoke about him and Peggy, being the brilliant woman she was correctly deduced what kind of man James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes was. And he didn’t think he could love her more than he already had.

Words failed him, all he could do was smile.

He looked forward to the days when she was lucid as much as to the days where she wasn’t. He didn’t care anymore, he would take whatever time she had for him and accompany her until it was her time. For a man who had seen war and countless deaths, he never held on to someone tighter than he was holding onto Peggy. Part of him was selfish, he wanted her to always be there, a link to a life he once had.

“Steve Rogers, you look younger every day!” she greeted him with the widest smile and it was the kind that was infectious that he couldn’t help but smile too.

“I could say the same for you, Peggy,” he replied, placing a new bouquet of roses in the vase by the table. He never failed to bring her flowers and they are usually roses because it was the kind she loved best, especially the red ones – the colour that used to paint her lips.

She beamed at him, “You really do know how to flatter an old woman.”

He didn’t argue with her. He loved watching her smile, it was the highlight of his day when it was rare in time of war and even more so now that time was against him.

_“She’s slipping away…”_

He recalled the conversation he had with her nephew. A striking and kind young man. He was the only family members of her he had ever crossed path with. But, he knew she made a home and she had received all the love she deserved. It was out of respect, he knew, that they gave him these stolen moments with her.

“You’re far away,” her voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly. “I was just…thinking.”

She smiled knowingly at his answer, but didn’t press further, opting to change the subject with a joke.

“Of course you are Mr Benjamin Button,”

“Who?” he asked, as expected. 

She chuckled pleasantly. “It’s a movie.”

“I’ll add it to my list,” he said without missing a beat, earning him a laugh.

“How long is your list by now?”

He smiled, not answering. Instead, he pulled out the small black notebook he had carried around and scribbled the name of the movie, and handed it to her. She took it carefully, almost cradling it her trembling hands. He watched as she flipped the pages until she was on the last page he had scribbled on. She looked almost in awe at the extensive list, every now and then she chuckled and commented about a song, a band or a movie that was on the list.

“Anything else I should watch, Miss Carter?” he asked playfully.

Her smile grew. “The Princess Bride, I was always fond of that movie.”

He didn’t hesitated, the moment she handed him back the book, he scribbled down the title. He caught a glimpse of her eyes lighting up watching him write. It almost brought him back to the quiet days when they were just the two of them and she was teaching him how to fight. The shared lunches and the hushed conversation only for them to hear. 

“You remind me of Westley too,” her voice was but a whisper and he knew she was slipping away again.

The next time he saw her, her memories failed her again. She called to him like a young woman he once knew. For the first time in months, he helped her out of the hospital bed at her insistence. 

“You owe me a dance,” she said sternly.

He couldn’t refuse her.

For a moment of suspended belief, they were back in the place she first walked in wearing a red dress. And they danced quietly until she started to slip away. He placed her back on the bed, carefully as though he would break her. It wasn’t the first time she told him he owed her a dance. Though, he was afraid that it could be the last time they ever would.

When she was back to being Peggy Carter the world knew the next time he saw her, they talked about Natasha. Frankly speaking, they talked a lot about Natasha. Well, if he was honest, he was complaining about Natasha being on his case and to ask his very pretty neighbour our and Peggy was listening patiently. Every now and then, through his boyish rant, she’d chuckle. 

“It’s not like she and Banner was a role model of perfect pairing,” he grunted. 

He didn’t know what it was about being near Peggy. Around her, he stopped being the kind of man the world saw. Around her, he was just Steve. He could talk to her about inane things. Like how he told her about being beaten up on every alley they passed by and how he never danced with a girl. And Peggy, she had this mix of kindness and harshness. She was hard when the situation called for it or when her jealousy was at rage and she was soft just in every moment when she knew it was all he needed.

“Tell me about her,” she said in the middle of his rant and he stopped rambling.

He was stunned by the look of genuine curiosity and love, and he had to wonder what he saw of him when he spoke of anything in the past. She had been mostly amused when he spoke about Tony, not agreeing or disagreeing with him. But, she never urged him to speak of the woman he had only referred to his ‘next door neighbour’, until today.

It was impossible for him not to stutter, trying to find a place where to start. And for the better part, his anxiousness made her smile. 

“She’s breath-taking,” he blurted at the end. “Kind, compassionate, strong –”

Peggy laughed easily. “Are you going to use every good word in the English dictionary?”

He blushed.

“No, tell me about her,” she insisted.

So, he did. He told her about the time when he was locked out of his flat because his mind was elsewhere that day and she let him crash on his couch until they could contact the building owner who was out. Or that time where she cooked dinner for him as a thank you for helping her carry laundry back to her flat.

“It wasn’t even heavy, but in our days, men are men. We hold the door open and help when help is needed. I don’t think it’s a familiar concept in this era,” he told her.

She replied with a nod and urged him to continue. 

He did. He went on about many details of which his path crossed his next door neighbour. How at one time he caught a whiff of her hair in a crowded elevator and it smelled of pineapples. It was strangely tropical and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

As for Peggy, she kept watching Steve as he spoke. She noted that whimsical look he had, that small shy smile when he recalled something about the way this woman he talked about laughed. She smiled even wider because even if it was seventy years too late, Steve was getting a shot of the things he dreamt about – they things he used to dream with her.

Content, Peggy placed her arm carefully over Steve, prompting him to stop. He looked at her with both affection and worry. His eyes were asking a question that never quiet reach his mouth. He wanted to ask what was wrong, was she alright? That much Peggy knew.

And softly she said; “Take her dancing.”


End file.
